


Welcome, Ghosts

by aamoon13



Category: The 100 (TV), clexa - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 20:10:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5839357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aamoon13/pseuds/aamoon13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa has left Clarke on the Mountain. Now, she not only faces the consequences of her actions, but her ghosts as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome, Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Picks up a few days after the Mountain from Lexa's perspective. Canon-Divergent Post S2. Characters will be added as the story goes along.
> 
> I won't make any promises on quick updates, but I will try and pump out as many as life and inspiration allow. As the wise Commander once said, "it takes as long as it takes."
> 
> Feedback, thoughts, comments always welcome and appreciated. 
> 
> Without further adieu, enjoy!

The barely risen sun filters through the branches above, basking her in weak golden warmth. Luscious green spills from every corner as she treads through the forest without a sound. The only sounds lacing the air are the rustling of leaves from the cool autumn air and the songs of waking birds.

She reaches out, placing her forearm high against the thick of an old oak tree and slumps heavily against it. She clenches her eyes shut and her fists follow. Her breathing becomes tight and thick all at once as the onslaught of remorse racks through her body.

She remembers clearly, so clearly, the sheer betrayal twisted and coiled on every muscle of Clarke’s face. The hardened and stony gaze haunts Lexa’s dreams.

_May we meet again._

She could’ve rejected the deal and maybe worked her way to recovering not only her people, but Clarke’s as well. But it was an idiot’s gamble, a fool’s whisper of a prayer. There was no alternative. If there were, she’d have done it with no hesitation.

But her people’s lives weren’t an option for gamble. She had an out, and a leader has to make hard choices. Duty before heart. That’s why the Commander spirit chose her. Or so she told herself.

It didn’t lessen the pain any though. She left Clarke for dead. If by some miracle they felled the Mountain, stories of Clarke, the Skai Heda, would be told for generations. Of how against all odds, she freed the Trikru and Skaikru from the clutches of the Mountain.

She sucks in a hard breath and shakily releases it. It was unlikely before, but now that she turned her back, there was hardly a hope. She lifts her head, staring through the branches at the pinks and oranges of the sky and prays for their salvation.

_Your heart shows no signs of weakness._

It’s a fool’s hope, she reminds herself, but she latches on to the hope that Clarke made it to see the light of day. She pushes herself from the trunk and takes one last glance towards the Mountain before turning to make her way back to the camp they’ve set up for the survivors. It’s the silence, she thinks, that makes the suffering so much worse. 

* * *

 

Before she walks into camp, she braces herself by closing her eyes once more. She must wear the Commander well. Showing weakness will help no one. Clarke flashes before her eyes, anger and betrayal seeping from every orifice of her face. It transforms and suddenly she’s staring at Clarke from the Mountain. Her eyes are desperate, begging. Lexa could nearly hear the pleading, “Please don’t leave. I need you with me as I enter the shadows.”

Lexa reaches out into nothing, trying to show the Clarke in her head she wants nothing more than to stay. It was moments like this that she wished she wasn’t the Commander and just a normal person instead. A normal person could drop everything to try and save Clarke. A normal person could have saved Costia.

But the weight of duty cannot be put down; it is one carried for life. She has no answers. She realizes she won’t be able to escape Clarke’s ghost, but she meets her eyes to whisper sorry anyway. They both disappear into the wind.

She readjusts and straightens her back, plastering the image of the Commander onto her features. A dull murmur sweeps through the camp as she strides in. Hands reach out, eyes full of gratitude, and she gives them a gentle understanding nod. They believe she freed them, and she did, but in time, she will be sure all knows on whose back their freedom came.

“Heda,” she didn’t turn to address Indra, opting to keep her eyes roaming throughout the camp, but she nods to let her know she’s listening.

“What of the Mountain?” Her eyes bore into her own, intense and rigid as always, but there was an unnamed tenseness even Lexa could feel. Despite knowing Octavia made her choice, she knew Indra developed a fondness she refused to own.

Lexa lets a moment pass by, weighing her next words in a careful manner.

“I have ordered scouts to the stay at the Mountain to inspect the aftermath. If the Mountain Men prevail, we will abide by our truce. However—“ She licks her lips to fight the smallest amount of hope that burns in her chest, “should the Skaikru prevail, we must monitor their actions to ensure no further harm is to come to our people.”

Indra inclines her head nearly imperceptibly, understanding the chance of attempted revenge with the weapons of the Mountain if the Sky People succeed. Her jaw remains fixed as if there’s more she wants to say, so Lexa allows another moment to pass for her to speak her mind. She knows the truce with the Mountain Men is on her lips.

Indra remains stiff and no words leave. Lexa doesn’t press—she knows when her subordinate is ready to speak she is free to do so. Instead, Indra bows and briskly walks away, leaving Lexa to her own thoughts.

Despising lingering and feeling unproductive, she finds purpose and marches towards the healer’s tent. Her eyes search and land on the towering figure of Nyko. He tends to the weak and injured with such gentleness she didn’t know a man his size could possess.

Lexa’s eyes flit from bed to bed, white-hot fury roiling underneath her skin as she looks at her people. The warriors are a shell of their former glory, stripped near bare and more bones jutting out than she could count. She would make them fierce again. Thirsty for vengeance of the life drained of them.

_Jus drein jus daun._

Lexa would hold her truce for the time being. Her leadership commanded it, so she could not resort to backhand tactics like helping Clarke out despite the raging course of vengeance that settled thick in her veins.

It’d be easy now that her people are released, but even if she could be dishonorable in her truce, she could not afford to fight the Mountain until her people recover and figure out what sorcery and trickery the Mountain Men hold. Her numbers are too small since she’s lost many to the two-front war against the Mountain and the Sky People, at least until the shaky alliance with Clarke and her people.

Though the prospect of fighting a battle with small numbers is not favorable, it is not what keeps her from retaliating. It’s the variables she’s not able to account for. The Mountain managed to turn her men into monsters, conjure a cloud of death on whim, and launch rockets unto unsuspecting villages. So, who is to say the prisoners are not under their grasp still or don’t have any other devices that ensures the Mountain’s victory against her own should they choose to fight back? When she becomes sure, she will demand payment in the only form she knows: blood for blood.

_If Clarke doesn’t succeed, that is._

She clenches her jaw tight thinking of Clarke in the state of her people. Ghosts of their former selves, drained of life, and tossed carelessly aside to rot when no longer useful. Lexa knows of Clarke’s love of art and she would paint the world red in their blood.

But unlike paint, it would never wash away, caked on her hands no matter how hard she would try to remove it, and forever stain her soul.

_Just like Costia._

_Just like Gustus._

_Just like Anya._

Without realizing, Nyko stands before her silent and analyzing. His blue eyes pierce her very soul and she wonders if his healing powers extend beyond the physical. It’s a silly thought, she thinks, but even his presence is comforting and settles her racing thoughts.

“How are they?” She asks as she looks past his figure and to the bodies resting beyond.

“Weak, very weak, but they are strong yet. We know very little of their time spent in the Mountain, but they have their warrior spirit, so they will recover and survive. That is the way of our people, is it not?”

“Indeed,” A flicker of a smile crosses her lips, but her features settle back into indifference, “Do you require any further assistance?”

“I think for now, Heda, all they need is rest.”

“Should you change your mind, all you need is ask. Their welfare is top priority until we return to Polis. We will allow today for rest, but tomorrow we will begin our departure for our provisions are limited—“ She sweeps the room, “—as is your own supply it seems.”

Nyko nods his head and returns to his previous task. Lexa, no longer with a purpose in the healer’s tent, moves to leave.

“You made the right choice.” It nearly knocks her off her feet and she swears the earth moves underneath, but the world remains still, as does she, and she tries not to slip into the cracks of her nightmare.

She pushes the flap of the tent above her head and inclines her head in response. She exits and the light of day hits her body. It’s warm, but it does nothing to melt the ice in her heart. It was her fate the moment she left her mother’s womb, when the spirit of the Commander took root in her soul.

She should have learned before Costia. She should have definitely learned after Costia. To love is weakness, and anybody will exploit that. The Ice Queen showed her that much. There was a moment of hesitation when Emerson of the Mountain offered her the deal.

She could’ve have killed him in refusal, but what awaited her people inside was sure death. They could have breached the main door and flooded the tunnels, but what would have awaited them? Their hand-held machines—guns—could spray small bits of metal into her warriors in the small opening. It could be compared to spearing fish in a barrel. They wouldn’t need much defense on the front lines should they have had those weapons. Then what? How many men waited beyond those lines?

The risk wasn’t worth it, but Clarke had caused her hesitation. Had Lexa been any weaker, she may have sacrificed her duty to her people. She knows her choice was a simple one. One she’d make over and over. But just because it was simple didn’t lessen any of the pain.

_To lead well you must make hard choices._

She exhales a hard breath through her lips and stares into the pale sun. It reminds her of Clarke, like most things. Stare into it too long and you lose sight. Not sure to consider it luck or relief, but she was able to avoid losing her sight with Clarke. She was blinded temporarily. Who knows how much longer it would have taken to lose sight completely.

Lexa wills herself to move and her feet carry her to her tent. She stares down at the table whence her hands rest, eyes landing on a several parchments strewn across the surface. She compulsively organizes them into order by importance and function. She lifts her hand and her index finger lightly grazes a detailed map of the surrounding area.

She thumbs through the stack to her left and lifts the topmost paper to rest next to the map. She reaches again for the stack, grabbing the next paper and places it by the first.

Lexa leans down, eyes zipping back and forth between the map and the two documents. The first paper is a list of areas to be avoided in their journey to Polis. The second is inventory of supplies. A furrow in her brow appears as she runs numbers and scenarios in her head.

_It would be wise to gain counsel._

She reaches for blank parchment and a writing utensil. She dips the tip in dark liquid and scribbles a few notes before leaving her tent.

Lexa beckons a nearby warrior and directs him to find Indra and send her to the healer’s tent. He bows and scurries off in his search. Lexa pads her way through the camp once again, eyeing their supplies on the way. It seems to match up as she runs through her mental checklist.

She pushes through the flap of the tent for the second time and immediately encounters a young face she knows to be familiar, yet displaces his name momentarily. Nyko steps from the table next to a sleeping form and places a large round hand on the boy’s shoulder. He quickly deduces the second visit is of some importance, so Nyko immediately bids the boy to another section of the tent to tend to the wounded.

“Heda.”

The tent flap quivers from movement and Indra steps through, mouth in a thin line and taut with finely tuned discipline. Lexa gestures for her to stand next to Nyko as she draws two rolls of parchment from her hip. They follow her movements with attentive eyes but remain silent.

Lexa unravels the first, revealing the map from her tent and then the second full of her notes. She clears her throat and allows a couple moments for the two to conjure ideas of why she bothered to gather them. They flit back and forth between the notes and the map, realization spreading across their features. Indra speaks first.

“We have two modes of travel: the safe, slow way—“

“—or the fast, dangerous route.” Nyko finishes for her.

Lexa nods. Good, she is glad her trust of their deductive reasoning is not lost upon them.

“Precisely. Before I decide which we should travel, I thought I would gather some input from you both. Indra, you’ve been monitoring the status of our warriors and food supply,“ She turns to face Nyko, “and you have tended to our injured and wounded and have a good indication of the remaining salves we possess.”

They move to affirm her assumptions, so Lexa continues.

“Given my current knowledge of our supply, I have reason to choose the latter to expedite our travels. Our numbers are large and could potentially ward off any predators that lurk in the forests. Our reserves do not extend past a three-day period with the addition of those rescued. Should we choose the long route, we will be without food or medical resources to sustain the current population, and those reclaimed could be jeopardized since our travel. If I’m wrong in my assumptions of the beasts of the forests or our current resources, I could potentially and unnecessarily put our people at risk. Give me your assessments.”

Indra speaks first.

“I think we should travel the quicker route, but I don’t want to give my preference freely without having a full count of our current inventory. We can kill any beast along the way if it meant faster travel.”

“Gather the information you need and report immediately to me as soon as it’s finished.”

Indra’s head drops in a brief nod and exits the tent. Lexa figured that would be her response, but it pleases her that Indra at least had the sense to provide ammunition for her preference. It’s Nyko’s response she’s interested to hear.

He stares at the map in thought, but meets Lexa’s eyes as he moves to speak.

“Given the condition of the wounded, my first inclination is to take the long route. They are less exposed to danger and allows for longer rest periods,” he reaches to take a small vial in his hand and brings it before his eyes as if to examine it, “but without the necessary salves, food and water supply, and lack of trained hands, their condition could fail just as easily.”

He shifts his focus from the bottle and zeroes in on her eyes, “One cannot recover if not fed and hydrated.”

“So you’re in favor of the second option then?”

“We don’t have much of a choice, do we?”

A grim smile touches her lips. The world sure does like to remind her that she’s powerless to its whims.

“Will they be able to traverse the terrain? We don’t have enough horses to carry them all.”

“They will make due. We are Trikru. We will survive.”

A smirk pulls at her lips, but it’s hindered by incoming thoughts.

“Once we breach the overpass, we will be unable to stop until we are clear. The land crawls with dangerous creatures and lingering will only increase our risk for attack.”

Nyko says nothing, but meets her with hard eyes. She breaks the contact and walks toward the tent’s exit. Lexa turns to meet his gaze once more.

“Prepare to leave at first light."

* * *

 

After discussing plans for their return to Polis with Indra, Lexa decides to trek through the camp. She takes note of Indra and Nyko’s capability to ready her people for the journey at dawn. Everywhere she turns to look, every capable man, woman, and child, is busy completing some task for their departure. 

Tents were already in the process of being disassembled, remaining food stored, and carts and other makeshift stretchers were made for the wounded to be carried.

Seeing their strength and unity as a people awakened a long thought dead part of her and it was a fierce reminder of why she chose her people over Clarke and the rest of the Sky People. She believed she lost the last shred of her heart, but it was beating right in front of her. If against all odds, her people have not only survived, but also thrived, then maybe she can too.

Lexa tears her sights from the camp and journeys back into the forest before anyone could see the tears threatening to fall. She gulps down a large breath and the taste of decayed leaves, tree sap, and something she can’t quite place hits her tongue.

The air moves swirls unnaturally for a moment, causing the hair to rise on the back of her neck. Suddenly, a fist comes hammering down. Her hands reflexively shoot up to block the incoming blow. Before her brain catches up, a leg sweeps her own from beneath. She hits the ground and dead leaves crunch in response. Adrenaline courses through her and she kips up quicker than she fell. Her assailant is nowhere to be seen, but her senses are sharp. Within seconds, she sends her knife flying through the trees.

A dull thud echoes through the dense forest and what follows is a familiar sound. Her racing heart speed up even more and in a flash she pounds through the trees. Caught between her blade and the trunk of an aged oak is a face she thought she’d never see again. Dark brown eyes, currently crinkled at the edges from her laughter and mischief, meet her own.

“Not a bad shot,” she grins and gestures to ragged clothing trapped underneath the blade, “You’re lucky I’m a little rusty.”

* * *

Lexa, who is known for being stone-faced, is now openly gaping at the young woman she pinned to a tree by her trusty knife.

“I know I’m decently good-looking, but you really know how to make a girl feel beautiful,” Lexa’s jaw snaps up almost instantly and gives an irritated glare at the woman who is chuckling to herself.

“Now that you’re done gasping like a fish out of water, want to help me out?” She wiggles her shirt where it’s imbedded in the tree for effect. 

Lexa crosses the remaining space, but never breaks eye contact on the way over. Only when she reaches down to grasp the knife from the trunk of the tree does her gaze shift. The raggedy excuse of cloth that is her shirt, hangs loosely off the woman’s body. Her eyes veer to the over-exposed bones and fresh wounds that her shirt barely covers. Lexa realizes she’s stared too long and she frees the blade.

She wipes it down, avoiding eye contact as she stows it away. Feeling the eyes on the back of her head, she looks up. Brown eyes, which were soft from laughing only moments ago, transform. They are now as sharp as the blade Lexa’s now hidden away. Now that they are face-to-face, Lexa could see just how gaunt the woman’s features are.

“You know, Lex, you’ve gotten slow. If I wasn’t currently in this condition, you might’ve been a goner.” The twinkle returns to woman’s brown eyes and the tension dissipates instantly.

“I sincerely doubt it, Rayne. Your abilities never really matched up if my memory serves me right.” Rayne’s lips curve into a smirk, as does Lexa’s.

“Seems like your memory is pretty faulty then,” she knocks against Lexa’s head and pulls back quickly to avoid Lexa’s swatting hands, “don’t worry, I’ll show you when we get back to Polis. Someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”

Lexa studies Rayne momentarily. She is short in stature and her normal stockiness gone. Her skin, once a golden brown, is as pale as the moon itself.

“You were captured by the Mountain.” It isn’t a question. Rayne’s physique, clothes, and lacerations are proof enough to Lexa. Rayne nods her head in response.

“A number of the villagers were captured by the Reapers during a hunt,” her voice drops low and venomous, “children.” Her gaze hardens once again. “I followed their tracks to the caves. I wandered aimlessly until I heard voices, but it wasn’t the Reapers or our people.”

“Mountain Men?” Rayne shakes her head and the moment thickens considerably.

“No. It was a Sky Person. A female.” Lexa couldn’t decide if Rayne’s eyebrows knot together out of concentration or hesitance. “She sounded desperate and she was threatening someone—wanting to know where her people were.”

Lexa’s heart constricts almost instantaneously. Rayne notices Lexa’s hands ball into fists and her knuckles whiten. They look squarely into each other’s eyes. It’s a knowing look Lexa realizes—Rayne perceives much and has an awareness of things unsaid and unknown.

“They weren’t in the caves, but I could hear their voices loud and clear. So, I searched for the origin of the sound and it was coming from a vent in the cave itself. I crawled in, but could no longer hear Clarke and her captive. I kept going anyway and eventually heard more concerning noises.”

“What were they?” Lexa keeps her straight face, but she couldn’t mask the tightness of her voice.

“Moaning, thrashing,” It was Rayne’s turn to ball her fists, “They make them, Lex, the Mountain makes the Reapers. Out of our own men. I saw it myself.”

“I know,” Lexa swallows hard, “Clarke escaped the Mountain, found methods to incapacitate the Reapers momentarily, and discovered means to reverse the transformation.”

Rayne’s eyes widen in surprise, but she nods, not ready to broach the subject of Clarke quite yet.

“You could imagine the thoughts that ran through my mind. If that’s what the Mountain was doing to our men, what were they doing to the women and children? So, I went back to crawling through the ducts and discovered our people in cages.”

“You tried to free them, didn’t you?”

“What else could I have done?” Rayne’s eyes flit back and forth between Lexa’s eyes in anguish, “Anya, Echo, everyone was there!”

“You could have come for me!” Lexa’s voice rang through the small clearing of the woods.

“Because that’s what you would have done. Right. I should’ve known,” Rayne spits to the side and turns, disgust forming on her features. Lexa feels it radiate from her. “You’re right, Heda.”

Lexa softens her voice, “I understand the choice you made, but it was foolish.”

Rayne crosses over in a flash and bares her teeth. Even as frail as she is, Rayne is as dangerous and threatening as they come. Her brown eyes turn nearly black and the paleness of her skin and the hollowness of her face make her seem even more menacing. Her voice becomes icy and frigid.

“You think my choice was _foolish_ , but I did it to save my people. Our people. You wouldn’t know what that’s like. Costia died by your inaction,” Rayne moves in so close their noses touch, “My sister died while you sat back doing nothing. You think my choice was stupid, idiotic even, but at least I would have died doing _something_.”

White-hot rage floods through Lexa, her voice drops low and dangerous, “Your actions got you _caught_. While you rotted in a cage, more of our men, women, and children died by either becoming monsters, drained of their blood, or slaughtered because the Sky People believed we took their own as prisoners. Had you come to me, I would have been able to prevent the deaths of countless people!”

Lexa gestures to the village. “All of this would have happened sooner,” her voice becomes distant and almost longing, “And maybe, just maybe I wouldn’t have had to—“

Her words are cut short and scrawny arms envelop her. They say nothing—they don’t have to. Neither mentions the wetness in their eyes, and after several minutes, Rayne pulls back.

Lexa gives her a one-over. Rayne’s hair is matted and dull and dirt is caked against the exposed skin from the tattered clothes.

“You need to bathe.”

The corners of Rayne’s lips tug into a smirk, “Like I said, you really know how to make a girl feel beautiful. It’s a wonder how my sister loved you. Or anyone for that matter.”

Her brown eyes are shiny with unshed tears, full of pain, a hint of mischief, and a spark of something else. Something like hope. Lexa gives a small smile back and wonders if she looks the same.

* * *

“What were you doing out in the forest? You should be with Nyko in the healer’s tent,” Lexa narrows her gaze, “ _resting_.”

Rayne waves a dismissing hand, “Resting is for the dead, Lex. Since I don’t have the muscle to help move anything, I figured I’d be useful and keep watch. You know I’m the best shot here.”

“Why did you leave your post then?”

“Shift change. It was pretty opportune if you ask me because you just happened to be there. You know I hate missing a chance to get the jump on you.”

“The similarities between you and Costia are…unnerving. I never understood why you both feel the need to pick fights with me at any given moment.”

Rayne shoots her a cheeky grin, but it quickly fades. Her face is now solemn. “I haven’t seen you act or look the way you did since Costia died,” She gives a knowing look to Lexa; a look that cuts deep in her core and could expose all her secrets in one breath if she wanted. Rayne relinquishes her gaze and stares off into the woods.

Her voice is distant, “I know of your sacrifice. It wounds you deeply.” Rayne draws in a deep breath and Lexa waits quietly for her to continue, “We don’t know the outcome of the Mountain yet. If Clarke’s reputation is even remotely accurate, she’ll find a way to survive and rescue her people.”

“Even if she does survive,” the desperate hope permeates in Lexa’s chest at the thought of Clarke alive, “She will not forgive my actions.”

“Clarke is the Skai Heda, is she not? If she cannot understand your actions, she is unfit to lead her people. Besides—“ Rayne meets her eyes once more and they are filled with optimism Lexa fails to match, “—hate is not as permanent as death.”

“It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. We have wasted enough time with unimportant matters.”

Rayne doesn’t bother to hide the skepticism from her face, but she recognizes the subject change for what it is and lets it go.

“Speaking of important matters, I need food.” Lexa watches Rayne dip behind a tree to pick up her bow and strap it around her frail torso.

Even though it was meant as a joke, Lexa couldn’t disagree in the slightest.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at aamoon13 and let's talk the 100, y'all :)


End file.
